Billy Elliot (2000)

Billy: So, what's it like, like?
Dad: What's what like?
Billy: London.
Dad: I don't know, son. I never made it past Durham.
Billy: Have you never been?
Dad: Why would I want to go to London?
Billy: It's the capital city.
Dad: Well, there are no mines in London.
Billy: Jesus Christ, is that all you think about?

Billy: Just because I like ballet doesn't mean I'm a poof, you know.

Billy: I don't want a childhood. I want to be a ballet dancer.

Mrs. Wilkinson: Please yourself, darlin'.

Billy: I don't want to do your stupid fucking audition! You only want me to do it for your own benefit.

Billy: All right, all right, don't lose your blob.

Billy: So what about your mother? Does she have sex?
Debbie: No, she's unfulfilled. That's why she dances.
Billy: She dances instead of sex? Your family's weird.

Billy: Tony, do you ever think about death?
Tony: Fuck off.

Gary Poulson: What are you deeing man? This is hand to hand combat not a bloody tea dance.

Dad: I'm bustin' my ass for those 50 pences and you're - look, from now on, you stay here and look out for your Nana. Got that? Good.
Grandma: They used to say I could have been a professional dancer if I'd had the trainin'.
Dad: Will you shut UP?
Billy: I hate you! You're a bastard.

Tutor 1: What does it feel like when you're dancing?
Billy: Don't know. Sorta feels good. Sorta stiff and that, but once I get going... then I like, forget everything. And... sorta disappear. Sorta disappear. Like I feel a change in my whole body. And I've got this fire in my body. I'm just there. Flyin' like a bird. Like electricity. Yeah, like electricity.

Mrs. Wilkinson: She must've been a very special woman, your mother.
Billy: No she was just me mam.

Mr. Braithwaite: You look like a right wanker to me, son.

Michael: So you're going to ballet every week?
Billy: Aye, but don't say owt.
Michael: Do you get to wear a tutu?
Billy: Fuck off, they're only for lasses. I wear me shorts.
Michael: You ought to ask for a tutu?
Billy: I'd look a right dickhead.
Michael: I think you'd look wicked.

Debbie: If you want, I'll show you me fanny.
Billy: Nah, I'm all right.

Grandma: I used to go to ballet.
Billy: See?
Dad: All right for your Nana, for girls. No, not for lads, Billy. Lads do football... or boxing... or wrestling. Not friggin' ballet.

Tony: Dance you little twat.